The Sun Is New
by Golden28
Summary: Bruce's world was turned upside down, first by the Enchantress and then by a woman in a blue dress. He has no idea what all of this means, but he's determined to get to the bottom of it. Bella doesn't have time to be chased by a man, even men as handsome and Bruce Wayne. Victoria is circling and all she can think about is staying alive. Romance is not an option. Tell that to Bruce.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: I Put a Spell on You**

"One change always leaves the way open for the establishment of others." – Niccolo Machiavelli

* * *

The world is a complicated place.

People tried to uncomplicate it and paint the world in shades of black and white, good and evil. After his dealings with Clark Kent last year Bruce had thought he'd moved past such inclinations. He had made a terrible error in judgement with Superman and resolved to never repeat those mistakes. But he'd never imagined that one day he would encounter someone like the Enchantress. She was pure evil, a being straight from his childhood nightmares. Her delight in terrorizing people was unparalleled by the Joker, Two Face, or any other criminal he'd come across after twenty years in Gotham.

The Enchantress first made headlines after she'd stormed a military base in Wyoming, throwing bolts of magic like an avenging god. News of her casualty ridden assaults came one after another. Fort Benning, Georgia – seven soldiers dead. Fort Hood – eight soldiers, two civilian contractors, dead. Camp Pendleton, Nellis Airforce Base, and San Diego's Naval Base all in the same month. More people died in every attack as her anger grew. But in the violence a pattern had emerged. Bruce laid a trap and the net closed around her. Amanda Waller didn't care what he did with the Enchantress, all she asked was that it was quick and quiet.

In the bowels of the bat cave, trapped in a cell made of nth metal from the planet Thanagar, the Enchantress sat and fumed. The cage was a gift from A.R.G.U.S. and it had properties that rendered magic impotent. Bruce stood outside her cell and watched as the crazed witch paced the length of her cage.

"Who are you?" Bruce asked. Through the voice changer, he sounded guttural.

Her iridescent eyes stared at him with loathing. The Enchantress tilted her chin up and hissed. His reaction must have disappointed because she spat through the bars and gave a frustrated growl.

He took the opportunity to study her, taking in the stringy black hair, gray skin and eerie eyes. The government files on her had claimed she was a witch, recruited into A.R.G.U.S. for special operations. He wondered what they'd been thinking when they'd invited this psychotic woman onto a strike team. Enchantress drew green fire between her hands and flung it at the bars. The Thanagarian metal deflected the magic. A rage filled scream pierced the room as Enchantress dropped to her knees and howled with fury. Her eyes fastened on Bruce.

Her voice was raspy when she spoke. "Human. How dare you defy me? I am more powerful than anything that has every walked this planet. You will bow to me one day!"

"When will that be?"

"All the humans will bow to me! I will be worshipped."

He crossed his arms and stared at her, unimpressed by the tirade. "How does taking over a military base advance that plan? It doesn't seem like something a deity would have to stoop to."

"When they fear me, they will worship me. Release me and I will spare your life. Keep me here and I will see you suffer the fires of hell!"

"I'll risk it," Bruce said, and turned away.

He walked out of the room as her outraged cries sounded behind him.

Bruce set the locks on the vault door to room that held Enchantress and removed his mask. He'd captured her and for tonight that was enough.

Alfred was in the control room, seated at the computer.

"Did you find anything in the A.R.G.U.S. database?" Bruce asked.

"Less than I'd like. She possessed an archeologist by the name of Dr. June Moone a few years ago. An updated file shows that she and Dr. Moone separated and Enchantress was thought dead. Her powers aren't named in the file."

Bruce dropped into the chair next to Alfred. "I'll interrogate her in the morning. She's not feeling chatty tonight." He took off his gloves and tossed them on the desk. "Why don't you take tomorrow off? You've earned it."

"I'll be in tomorrow afternoon."

Bruce knew better than to argue.

The butler left and Bruce started in on the A.R.G.U.S. files. Before long the words blurred on the screen. He'd been awake for days, but he pushed himself to read for a while longer but exhaustion sank in and his head slumped forward as sleep overtook him.

A scream woke him. Bruce snapped awake in an instant and bolted out of his chair. He sprinted towards the Enchantress' cell and tore open the vault door. Inside he found her on the floor. She writhed, in the throes of what looked like a seizure, as foam dripped from her mouth. Green light flashed around her in waves that lit the room. Bruce stood frozen in the doorway, unable to look away from the strange spectacle. A shiver of fear ran down his spine as he appreciated for the first time that he was dealing with a power that was incomprehensible, something far beyond his control.

That was his last thought before the Enchantress vanished and the green aura where her body had been exploded and slammed into him.

* * *

"Bruce, come on!"

A voice sounded above him. He ignored it.

"Don't make me throw cold water on your face," Alfred said.

Bruce opened his eyes and blinked against the bright light. He winced as pain made him squeeze them shut in the next instant. Bruce covered his eyes and turned away from the light.

"What happened?" He felt strange as he was disconnected from reality. His entire body ached.

"I don't know. I found you unconscious by Enchantress' cage and she wasn't there. How do you feel?"

"Horrible." Bruce pushed himself into a sitting position with effort. "There was an explosion."

He struggled to recall the details of the prior night. His eyes still hurt and he rubbed them with his fingertips to assuage the pain.

"The Enchantress?" Alfred asked.

"She's dead. No one could have survived that."

He recapped what he could remember, the scream, the green aura and the explosion.

"She killed herself," the butler said.

"It looks that way."

"How do you feel? Are you alright?"

Bruce struggled to open his eyes. He flinched at the discomfort the light caused. With effort, he managed to open them and stared in disbelief at the sight.

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked.

"My vision…"

"Can you see?"

"Yes. But everything is black, white and gray."

Alfred tested Bruce's vision with color cards, an eyesight chart and examined them with a pen light, only to find they were in perfect condition.

"It's called Achromatopsia. You're completely color blind." Alfred ran through a list of possible explanations of the sudden loss of color perception but Bruce didn't pay attention.

How and why felt irrelevant. It was what it was. Color didn't matter. Alfred thought the reaction was odd but Bruce seemed fine so he set aside his concerns. Over the next few weeks the withdrawn demeanor became more pronounced. Bruce only spoke when asked a question and most of the time he didn't look up from the computer. Alfred was used to his boss' singlemindedness, but this felt different.

Bruce felt Alfred's eyes on him as he worked and he ignored it. A furious passion burned in his stomach. He wanted to tear things apart, set them on fire just for the pleasure of destruction and punch holes in the wall. Bone deep anger boiled inside of him every day, every night, and even in his sleep. The third week after the explosion, voices began to talk to him. First, they came in his dreams as whispers. Then they followed him into the waking hours. Pressure built inside of him as the voices, the rage and the frustration mounted.

Batman went out that night. He'd studied the activity of the Golden Dragons street gang for the past week and had a hunch they would move black market cargo. Bruce sat in the bat mobile hidden in the shadows of the docks as he waited. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel but his breath was slow and steady. At midnight two cars pulled into the parking lot. He recognized the men that stepped out as foot soldiers of the Golden Dragons. Bruce followed them into the maze of shipping containers. They didn't bother to check for a tail which allowed him to stalk close behind them, cloaked by the shadows.

The leader stopped at the container on the end and two men stepped forward to undo the locks.

Bruce edged as close as he dared, eager to see what the container held. The door swung open and a stench escaped, rancid and highly distinct. It was something he'd smelled before, too many times to count. A disgusting mix of excrement, sweat, and fear.

The Golden Dragons were moving into the human trafficking market.

One of the soldiers stepped inside, into the darkness of the container. Cries of alarm sounded at his presence and Bruce ground his teeth. His hands curled into fists but he made himself wait. His heart began to pound as anticipation warmed his blood. Hot rage boiled inside of him. He could imagine what the women in those freighters had gone through all too well. He'd seen it a million times before and it never failed to turn his stomach. A fist connected with flesh and a scream sounded from inside the container.

One of the voices spoke, harsh and clear. _Kill them. They do not deserve to live._

He exploded. His control shattered and anger broke free from its bonds. The beast he'd always kept under tight control broke out. Bruce didn't process his actions. His body moved on instinct as he launched himself at the men closest to him. He grasped the back of their jackets and threw them into the side of the containers as if they were rag dolls. They hit the metal wall and didn't get up. One appeared unconscious and the other clutched his knee with a groan. Three more men remained and he was on them before they managed to reach into their jackets for their weapons. A swift jab dropped the nearest man and he grabbed the other by the lapels of his jacket, swung him around and shoved him into the last man, who'd hand had closed around the butt of his gun. They stumbled together, disoriented by the speed and brutality of the sudden attack. Bruce delivered a kick to the knee cap of the first man and he dropped. His friend fell with him and Bruce caught the flash of gun metal a moment before it went off and knocked it away. The quick reaction saved his life, but the wild shot found its target in the second man's abdomen. He cried out in pain and groaned as his last breath passed his lips.

Bruce felt nothing, no remorse, no satisfaction, as the first man – the shooter – gasped in horror at seeing his friend dead in his arms. He slammed his foot into the man's head and he fell to the pavement, unconscious.

He entered the container where he found the remaining gang member had acted. A woman was planted between him and Batman, like a human shield. Bruce's lip curled and the anger deepened. His chest vibrated from the rage as he tried to hold himself back from throwing himself at the man, human shield be damned. Logic had a tenuous grasp over him. He wanted blood and he didn't care what happened for him to get it.

"Let the girl go."

"No. She and I are walking out of here."

He had to give the man credit. His voice didn't shake and neither did his hands as he pressed the barrel of the gun to the girl's temple. Bruce raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. The gang member edged around him and he kept as much distance between them as the narrow confines of the shipping container would allow. Bruce let him to pass by and reach the mouth of the container. When he saw the carnage Batman had left behind, his eyes widened. It was the split-second distraction Bruce had counted on. He shot forward and grasped the gun and twisted. With a sick snap, the man's arm broke. Bruce relished the raw scream it elicited as euphoric pleasure bloomed in his chest. He wanted the man to know pain, like these women had. He wanted to ruin him. He wanted to destroy him.

Bruce grasped the man's hair and swung him around, into the wall of the container. He repeated the action twice more and hauled the smaller man off his feet and pounded his skull against the steel.

The gangster went limp. Bruce snarled, furious. It wasn't enough. He hadn't felt enough pain yet. He would never feel enough pain to recompense the suffering he'd inflicted.

"Bruce! Bruce!"

Alfred. The butler shouted into his ear through the communication system.

"What?"

"Stop. The police are on their way, you need to get out of there."

The calm, measured tone did nothing to pacify him. He looked down at the man in his grasp. Blood ran down his face and he coughed. Blood gurgled out of his mouth and coated his lips, trickled down his broken slack jaw. The beast inside of Bruce wanted to see him crushed, to hear the screams and groans of his pain one more time.

 _Kill,_ the voice in his head demanded. The urge to follow its prompting was like a compulsion.

"Bruce get out of there. The police are almost there."

He could hear the sirens in the distance and knew he should go. But it was so tempting to stay. To make these men pay in blood for what they'd done. A sob sounded from behind him and he glanced over his shoulder. The terrorized eyes of the women gleamed back at him, illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through the open container doors.

This was wrong. It didn't feel wrong. It felt fantastic like the heady rush of a free fall on a roller coaster. But for all his faults, Bruce knew right from wrong. What he'd done tonight went against everything he'd built Batman to represent. Bruce dropped the man and disappeared into the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: The Color Blue**

"There is no instinct like that of the heart." – Lord Byron

* * *

 _Two Years Later…_

Her head throbbed and her feet ached.

Bella figured she deserved the pain for what she'd put her feet through in the past few days of Fashion Week. Standing in five-inch heels for hours on end was no joke, even when it was your job. Still, it was past time for a break and she scanned the room for a place to sit. An empty barstool caught her eye and she slipped through the crowded room to claim the seat.

She put up with the aches and pains that came with modeling for the money. For most women, it wasn't an occupation that paid well, but for her the stars had aligned. Three days after she'd started classes at Gotham University an agent had recruited her. Bella's first thought when he'd handed her his card was that it was a scam or worse, a lure for something criminal. She had tossed the card on her desk, where it caught her roommate's eye. It turned out the agency was one of the top modeling companies on the east coast. Since she'd been unable to find a job on campus she set up an interview with the agency. The next week she did her first catalog shoot. It paid enough to cover her bills for a month. Four years and a bachelor's degree later she was still in the industry.

If the well hadn't run dry, who was she to turn down work?

Her computer science degree wasn't unused. She'd invested the money from her job and started an online web development business that had started to make a profit last year.

Bella gave the bartender her order and a moment later had a long island iced tea in her hand. The cold drink helped revive her from the room's stuffy heat. She turned and faced the packed room. Fashion Week brought quite the crowd to Gotham. From her perch, she could see two editors of international editions of Vouge and three major designers, worth more a piece than she'd earn in a lifetime. Bella sipped her cocktail and wondered how many more fashion shows she had in her before she was replaced with someone younger.

Perhaps Victoria would pick her off first. For the past five years the redhead had dogged her every step. Bella knew she was close by the headlines in the Gotham Gazette – reports of a serial killer were plastered on every morning paper for the past month. The most recent report listed twelve dead since May and she knew it was a matter of time. Victoria had found her. She should run - it was her only hope of survival- but she couldn't. Gotham had been her home for four years and she didn't want to leave.

* * *

Bruce stood on the mezzanine and looked down at the party.

He had no desire to be here, but Alfred had handed him a freshly dry-cleaned tuxedo and told him to make an appearance. He'd mingled for an hour and the mask of Bruce Wayne had slipped a little more with each meaningless conversation he'd suffered through. The voices in his head were a constant buzz in the background of his mind. He took care not to listen to them, letting their words flow around him as he kept his focus elsewhere. Anywhere else, just not on the seductive voices that begged him to do terrible things.

He knew where the voices had come from now. A day after the incident with the Golden Dragons foot soldiers, his hands had exploded with emerald flames. It was the same green fire the Enchantress had used. Magic. Everything made horrible, perfect sense as he'd stared down at his hands. He was possessed by the Enchantress. The rage that boiled his blood and kept him on the knife's edge of detonation wasn't his, it was from her. Bruce's anger doubled when he'd realized that it was the Enchantress who'd done this to him. He was ruined, useless, after the powers had taken root. Fury blocked out all other emotions. He felt no happiness, affection, lust, fear… everything was gone. When he wasn't in a rage apathy was all he could feel.

His violent anger had forced him to retire Batman. Alfred made the call on the night he'd nearly beaten the Golden Dragon foot soldier to death. He'd said Bruce didn't have the self-control to fight crime anymore and he wasn't wrong. The bat's disappearance caused a huge stir in Gotham that lasted months. With the recent string of homicides and a serial killer in town his absence was keenly felt by the media and the citizens.

Bruce left the mezzanine and descended the steps to the packed ballroom. He scanned the crowd and wondered how to pass the rest of the night. A model fluttered her lashes at him as he walked by but he avoided eye contact.

He pulled out his phone and texted Alfred. How long do I have to stay?

The answer was immediate. One more hour.

 _Screw this_ , Bruce grimaced. He needed a drink.

The bar was in the center of the room, an island in the sea of people, and he made his way towards it. He needed something that would work fast but wasn't in the mood for whiskey, so he settled for a bourbon on the rocks. Out of habit he scanned the people around him, his eyes searching for threats. He felt uneasy. Magic had enhanced his instincts and he didn't question his senses. Bruce's eyes tracked around the room as he tried to pin point the cause of his tension.

He caught a flash of blue from the corner of his eye.

Bruce didn't turn his head towards the flash of color. It's an illusion, he told himself. His eyes strayed back to the blue of their own accord. Sky blue. He was looking at a sky-blue evening dress.

It was the only pigment he could see. The background remained in black and white, as if he was looking at a color accent photograph. He studied the woman who wore the dress. She had her back to him on the opposite side of the rectangular bar and he couldn't see her face. As he stared, other colors came into focus. Her hair transformed to a rich chestnut and her skin turned ivory when he blinked. A wave of dizziness swept over Bruce.

What it meant, he couldn't be sure. But he wasn't about to let the woman slip away before he talked to her. Bruce circled around the bar to the woman in the blue dress and approached her from behind. He reached her side and stopped just behind her, frozen. None of the practiced casual lines he'd once known by heart came to mind. His heartbeat pounded in his throat as he struggled to find to words to start a conversation but it was like he couldn't remember how.

She was small. Judging her height while she was seated was difficult but he could tell she was petite. Her chestnut hair fell in waves to her waist and when she turned her head, red highlights caught the light. She was slender and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to put his hands around her narrow waist. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck as an acute wave of lust washed over him.

He took a sharp breath and tasted something sweet in the air. He inhaled again, deeper this time. A scent hung in the air, sugary and potent, rushing straight to his head like a shot of tequila. She smelled of strawberries and vanilla. The wave of lust intensified and his blood thickened as it pooled low in his belly. He held back a groan. After two years of nothing the sensations overwhelmed him. A noise must have escaped him because the woman turned. Bruce stared into her bright caramel eyes and his muscles clenched with need. She was stunning. Soft waves framed her face and her eyes were thickly lashed. He could have done without the excessive mascara and eyeliner, but the heavy makeup didn't distract from her beauty. Her nose was straight and small and her lips were painted scarlet. Saliva flooded his mouth as he anticipated finding out what color they were when he kissed off the lipstick. She was so beautiful he didn't think he'd ever seen anything like her before in real life.

He sought to cover the awkwardness of the moment and offered her his hand.

"Bruce Wayne," he said with a smile.

"Bella," she replied.

When she took his hand, electricity arced between them. Bella gave a soft gasp at the unexpected heat and her eyes widened. Bruce tightened his grip to prolong the contact. When he released her hand, the warmth went with it.

"Business or pleasure?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Are you here for business or pleasure," he asked.

"Business," she said and straightened her spine as she visibly pulled herself together.

"What kind?"

"I'm modeling for Yves Saint Laurent."

"Ah, you're not here by choice. Same," he said with a roughish smile.

She relaxed and returned the smile. "And why are you here?"

She didn't recognize him. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. Then he realized her ignorance was a good thing – if she didn't know who he was, she wouldn't have any expectations of him. "Scheduled personal appearance," he said. "So, tell me about yourself, Bella."

Bella stared up at the handsome man and wondered why he had bothered to talk to her. She could tell he was someone important by the way he carried himself and the expensive gray suit he wore. Her heart hammered in her chest as they made small talk. It had been sped up when their hands touched and hadn't slowed down yet. She tried to tell herself it was pheromones, but it was impossible to ignore the chemistry between them. He leaned closer to hear her over the music and chatter and she had to take a deep breath to steady herself. The sandalwood undertones of his cologne teased her nose. She reached for her drink to soothe her dry throat and grabbed his forearm by accident. Electricity sparked again and a shiver ran down her spine. Butterflies took off in her stomach and her eyes shot to his. Carnal knowledge sparkled in them. She could tell he knew what she was feeling. Her face flamed. Bella hoped the thick layer of foundation hid the rising color, but his pleased smile made her doubt it.

"What are we doing?"

The words escaped before she could stop them. Her face burned. He stepped closer, so their bodies brushed against each other. His hands slid around her waist and pulled her flush against him. His towering height forced her to angle her head back to meet his eyes.

"Getting to know each other before we take this farther," Bruce said softly.

Bella swallowed. To hear it spoken aloud made it real. The chemistry between them was undeniable, but her mind hadn't gone to sex. Now it did, as blood rushed to her groin and her nipples pebbled against the material of her dress. She could feel them contract in anticipation and her thighs clenched. Goosebumps broke out on her skin even as heat swelled inside of her.

Bella was horrified.

There hadn't been anyone since Edward. Jake had expressed his interest but she'd never managed to reciprocate. Her heart didn't want anyone else. She was still asked out on occasion but had never accepted the invitations. Now she was in the arms of a man she'd known less than ten minutes and he'd incited more passion in her than any man before him, Edward included.

Her body tingled from Bruce's closeness. How had this happened? She'd sworn off men years ago. Aside from the fact that she didn't want anyone else, she was terrified to risk her heart again. It was all she could do to move on from the devastation Edward had wreaked on her heart. A one-night wasn't in the cards for her; she was a twenty-three-year-old virgin. The slim chance he might notice was too embarrassing to be considered.

Bella opened her mouth to speak, but Bruce hushed her with a finger over her lips.

"Shh," he said gently. "Bella, this is going to sound clichéd, but you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." His hand slid under her chin and he tilted her face up to look her in the eye. "We won't do anything you don't want to, but I think I might die if I don't get a taste of you."

People milled around them, lost in their own conversations. Bella was entrapped by Bruce's eyes as he lowered his head to hers. Their mouths met and then his tongue invaded her mouth. Bella couldn't stop herself. She opened her lips and let him devour her. His tongue flicked over hers and then returned to stroke in an easy, languid pattern. His hands slid into her hair and closed over the back of her skull and she shivered with desire. Her hands glided over his chest and she felt the hardness of his muscles, palpable even under the suit jacket and dress shirt. Bruce broke the kiss. He looked astonished and his breath was ragged. Frustration narrowed his eyes. Bella could relate. Her heart was pounding and all the nerves and hormones in her body demanded more.

"Let's get out of here," he said.

Bruce didn't wait for her to answer. He took her by the elbow and helped her down from the barstool. Bella let him guide her through the room towards the exit, taking what felt like three steps to his one. His arm gripped her waist as they wound through the crowd. Bruce didn't slow down as they strode by the valet. His vehicle was somehow already waiting for them, and he opened the door to the low-slung car for her.

"Where do you want to go?" Bruce asked as they pulled away. "My apartment is close, but if you'd feel more comfortable at your place-"

"Your apartment is fine," Bella said.

She was too cautious to let him know where she lived. The haze of desire hadn't let her forget that Victoria was somewhere out in the city, on the hunt for her. She would kill Bruce if she thought it would hurt Bella, out of spite. Bella didn't know him but she wouldn't put him at risk. Victoria drew closer with every minute. The best that Bella could do was make the most of her final days. She snuck a side glace at Bruce and excitement curled in the pit of her stomach. If this wasn't how you made the most of it, what was?


	3. Chapter 3

***Important Author's Note***

Hello Readers,

I'd like to say thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this work so far. Your reviews, follows and favorites make my day every time I post a new chapter.

As many of you may have noticed this story has been heading towards explicit sexual content, which is not allowed on FanFiction. Because the explicit content will play an important role in this story going forward, **I will not be putting up anymore chapters here.**

However, the story is available on Archive of Our Own. The title on Archive is "The Sun Is New."

Because several stories have similar titles to mine on Archive the story can be difficult to find. The easiest way to find the story is to go to the search bar on the website and type in the title followed by the tag "Bruce Wayne."

Please keep following the story. I've been working on this idea for a while and **I intend to write a full length piece, updated every Friday until the work is complete.**

Thank you,

Golden 28


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